Daedric Influence
by Canned Brilliance
Summary: With the Dragonborn dead and the threat of Alduin's all-consuming hunger looming ever closer, the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild makes a deal that will bind her to a fate much bigger than herself, all the while battling her descent into darkness with no one other than the Mad God himself. Slight SheogorathxOC, Warnings inside.
1. Deal with the Devil

_**A/N: Whoo, re-write ahoy! I am so much happier with this. I mean, it's kind of crazy how much I like this better. Oh, but i guess some of you didn't read the first version, so, welcome! I hope you stay a while. So, formalities, i'm Canned Brilliance, and welcome to my story. This is rated T for minor swearing(which will most likely escalate in later chapters), some adult suggestions, and a smattering of violence here and there. And smoking, and drinking, and drug use. And, can't forget the pairings. A little bit of SheogorathxOC, and DragonbornxOC abound. Turn back if you're not prepared for that sort of thing. I don't really have much to say besides what's already been said, so, onwards.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scrolls series. The series belongs to the wonderful Bethesda Studios.**_

* * *

_"Breathe in, breathe out. That's it, ducky, just in and out. See, right there, the crack in his armor? Swing for it and miss. Hit him on the backswing, he won't expect it. Or, maybe he will? I don't know. __**Swing**__!"_

* * *

_"That's impossible, I'm small and weak, barely strong enough to lift a great sword. Much less swing that around with enough force to knock a god off his feet."_

_"Then you'd better start training. There are fewer things more dangerous than order, and you are the only one who can stop it."_

_"I'll get Vile to help ya out, too. There's always some sucker wanting a purpose in life, we could probably scrounge up a mentor or two."_

_"I'll do what?"_

_"Oh, look. They're arguing again. How unexpected! You should leave, before they realize how far off the deep end you've gone."_

* * *

_"Oh, perfect. Really. I'm going to be so pleased. Watch me be pleased."_

_"Ducky, you're back! And you've cured our dear Emperor's night terrors, I see. Someone's dying to impress. I'm pleased!"_

_"Oh, look at that. I was right. Charming. Am i really that attractive from the back? Hello, lovely. How are you doing?"_

* * *

_"You're thinking of becoming his champion, aren't you? Aren't you?!"_

_"I-I didn't...I wasn't..."_

_"He doesn't even know. How adorable. Our subconscious thoughts are wondrous, don't you agree? You know, I have my doubts. He thinks that I can trust you."_

_"I refuse to let him even touch you! _

_"Damn. I am one cold-hearted son of a bitch. Fierce. Look at me, really. Oh, things are going to be fun indeed when you tell him. And you will tell me, no doubt about that."_

_"Alright, I...swear I won't talk to him."_

* * *

_"Please...please...you have to stop! I can't take it anymore! Please...please..."_

_"Oh, no crying now, little one. Perk up and keep that chin sky-high. We have work to do, tears won't stop the world from being destroyed."_

_"Stop what?"_

* * *

_"I will help you, one one condition."_

_"Name it."_

_"When that worm is silenced, I want his head."_

_"Understood, but I'm not actually slaying him.._

_"Then tell the other mortal fool to do it, but I want that disgusting abhorrence to hang in my halls for eternity."_

_"Alduin will not be defeated easily. What if he surrenders?"_

_"He will not. He is prideful to the point of overbearing arrogance. He will fight and he will die. And his skull will hang as a warning to those who oppose me."_

* * *

_"What have you done? You have corrupted the champion beyond reason! The corruption has infected their mind like a plague! An illness to which there is no cure!"_

_"Oh, it's this confrontation. Get me a bag of popcorn, would you? I'm going to enjoy this much too..much. Someone fetch me gummy worms! Not the green ones, either!"_

_"What are you talking about! I've done nothing of the sort! The mere notion that I would hurt my champion is a fallacy of the most revolting kind!"_

_"Oh, watch, Boethiah's going to go off on him. This is so fun!"_

* * *

_"I guess this is goodbye for now, sweetling. Come visit me sometime. We'll share some tea and a tart. And we can dine on that lovely waitress down in Bravil. Ciao, ducky, i'll see you in a tick or two."_

* * *

_"Time to wake up, little one. You have a job to do, and you're going to do it right. But first, you have to wake up. Wake up. __**Wake up!**__"_

* * *

Pale green eyes opened, bleary from sleep. The woman pushed herself up, white hair almost brown from the dirt that covered it. A quiet yawn echoed in the dark room as she pulled herself off the floor, the light sheen of grey water covering her skin and clothes dripping on the hard stone.

A quick look around confirmed that she was still in the crumbling ruin that she'd gone to sleep in, and it was not a nightmare, as she'd hoped. But, no, the candles were still lit, the water from the cracked ceiling still gushed, and the shrine to Sheogorath still stood proud in front of her, his soon-to-be offerings spread in front of the statue.

She contemplated leaving the deserted, crumbling sewer. The thief then imagined the looks on her family's faces when the dragonborn's body was lit on the ceremonial pyre, ash swirling into the sky. She decided a decrepit ruin wasn't so bad, compared to the alternative.

The ruin was deep under the ruins of Vivec City, in far south Vvardenfell. Boiling waters ran through the still-smoking crater of the once-great city, and the oblivion-spawned moon known as Baar Dau (once called the Ministry of Truth) sat in the middle as the Scathing Bay swirled around it.

Just to get to the ruin she'd had to take potion after potion to make sure that she wouldn't burn to death in the torrid water. Then there were the potions of water-breathing to make sure she didn't drown in the bay, and the potions of disease resistance for the toxic ash that thrived in the water and clouded the air, and that was after she'd navigated the Ashlands and the rocky, near-inhabitable coasts that surrounded the damned island.

She hoped dearly to never return.

However, she was already there, and she'd come this far. There was no turning back now. Besides, the world needed Valghar, and Valghar needed her. She'd hate to fail both of them.

The woman looked back over her list, just to make sure that indeed, she had everything. She had a bouquet of calipers and tongs, tied loosely with light red sting. Not pink. The madman she'd talked to had been very clear about that. They were on a bed of assorted poisonous roots and leaves, which she would light on fire after she added the last ingredient.

Which, incidentally, was_ 'the minimus of one unloyal to His cause'_. Or, in simpler terms, her pinkie. At least, she hoped she'd be the right donor. If she wasn't, she was going to sacrifice her poor finger for nothing.

Wiggling it once and kissing it goodbye, she placed her hand on the calipers, clenching her teeth as she raised her hunting knife, bringing it down with a loud, metallic clang. The new stump on her hand freely gushed blood, her small finger resting lightly on the herbs as she held the wound with shaking fingers. After a moment, she let the bleeding appendage go, summoning a flame spell in her non-injured hand to light the offering.

It lit surprisingly well, despite being wet with blood. Bright gold and green flames leapt towards the statue, the metal tools melting quickly along with the now-bubbling flesh of her separated finger. Finally, the flames completely engulfed the cold stone smile of Sheogorath's depiction, disappearing in the air with a final roar and crackle.

She waited.

Nothing happened.

Clutching her freely-bleeding hand to her chest, she shook slightly. Turning away from the shrine, she chuckled quietly in disbelief. The nearly-silent laughter devolved into strained breaths as her hand shook, scarlet liquid dribbling through her fingers into a dark puddle on the dark floor.

"You know," a hand came around her side to gently pry her hand away, gripping her wrist and pulling to turn her around. The mad god stood there in all his insane glory, all violet and crimson attire and milky eyes, with a toothy grin any slaughterfish would be proud of. He raised the severed stump to his mouth, sucking on the wound like it was a completely normal thing to do. "I really don't appreciate being interrupted when i'm _occupied_." The woman winced as he licked at the wound, however he continued, speech muffled. "However, I guess I can make an acception. I mean, it's not everyday that Nocturnal's inviolable little champion summons me up for a chat."

"So," he said, removing her hand from his mouth with an audible 'pop!', "what business could such a consecrated thief have with an old daedra like myself?"

Inwardly forcing her voice not to shake, she held her hand to her chest while she spoke. "I want to make a deal."

A loud, raucous bout of laughter escaped Sheogorath. "I think you've got your daedra confused, ducky. I'm not silly little Clavicus Vile. I don't grant wishes. You'll have to summon up the short chap and that hound of his if you want a happy ending."

"I tried. He pointed me to you." She couldn't help but be miserable at his statement. She'd ended up reuniting the other Daedra Lord and his powerful hound, but Vile had been so angry at not being able to play her he'd denied her any further deals. The only reason his masque sat inside her pack was at the nudge of Barbas, who had seen it necessary to reward her.

"Oh, did he now? What exactly did the vertically challenged lad say? I'll be sure to remind him when i'm _beating his face in._" The madgod adopted a brooding look, leaning on the edge of his pedestal as he sulked. "Really, is it so hard to get a little vacation time? Spreading madness through the whole of nirn isn't exactly easy."

"He said that _'he wasn't going to deal with any of this and if anyone was it'd be that gibbering fool.'_"

Sighing, Sheogorath draped himself over his stone depiction. "Ungrateful kin, the lot of them. Don't listen to a word they say, they'll corrupt you beyond measure." The only sound audible was the rushing of water above them before the madgod _jumped_ towards her, obviously delighted. "Oh, I have it! I have a wonderful deal for you! Wonderful indeed."

He grabbed her non-injured hand, clasping it in both his own. "Care to hear it?"

"Uh, i'd..i'd love to."

"Brilliant! Now, i'm guessing you summoned me here to get your Dragonborn back to the world of the living. Unless, of course, your deal was to use me as an interior decoration, which honestly would be just as great of a deal as I look positively _radiant_ in the right lighting. However! I'm not going to try to jailbreak your saint without knowing I have something wonderful waiting for me when I get back."

"What do you have in mind?"

The Prince looked pleasantly surprised. "I didn't think you'd ask. Usually you little mortals just offer up your soul on a plate and sob to me about their problems. Rivers upon rivers of tears."

Dropping her hand and circling her like a predator, looking her up and down, he seemed to come to a decision. "I think...I want your mind. And, of course, your unwavering loyalty, but that's a given."

"My...mind?"

"Oh, yes. You see, I can't take your heart because that poor little thing is fortified in walls of reinforced titanium. Very, very hard to crack. I can't take your soul because my endearing brothers and sisters would throw one, giant collective fit. We're all vying for that little piece of you after you die, you know. Power and all that. However, that pretty little mind of yours is open and up for grabs."

Brushing off some nonexistent lint from her shoulder, he continued. "You'd be surprised at what the mind can do. It's both more powerful than you can imagine and weaker than any other organ in that meatsack you call a body. Although, I will admit, you are a very nice meatsack." He ruffled her hair. "And, as a plus, it gives me a foot in the door to claiming your soul as my own when you die. It's looking very good for me. And, you get that adorable bear of a harbinger back! Everyone wins!"

"So...you get to play with my head and I get Valghar back? What's the catch?"

"Catch? Oh, I never!"

The madgod looked positively _scandalized_.

The thief didn't really care.

"Oh, fine. Smart little mortal, you should pay a visit to old Hermie sometime. He'd love that quick wit. There may be a few little, teensy, _insignificant_ side effects. Nothing to worry about."

"Side effects like...?"

"Oh, hallucinations, phantom limbs, minor delusions, disorganized thoughts, thought blocking, neologisms, paranoia, suicidal and/or aggressive behavior, memory loss, catatonia, and death. Like I said before, nothing serious."

She gave him a dead look, before relenting. "I don't really have a choice, do I?...alright. Fine. I'll make the deal."

"Wonderful!" He clapped his hands, obviously excited. "Now, are you, to say, 'in the business' of making deals with daedric princes, or is this your...first time? Ah, well, not like it matters, bite your lip and pray for mercy, little one!"

Grabbing her wrists, she choked out a scream, the skin he touched burning like she'd dipped her hands in fire.

"Branding," he started, "especially branding like this, would probably get you or I in quite a bit of trouble." he stopped for a moment to admire his handiwork before he continued. "However, I rather like insurance, and this is _quite_ the insurance. Wouldn't you agree?"

Unable to speak, but fearing the repercussions if she ignored the mad god, she forced out a small nod. Sheogorath smiled in return.

"Good! Now, you only need to suffer for about ten more minutes, then we'll be done. Or an hour, depending on how thick your skin is." She whimpered at the thought.

"Oh, if that's not the saddest sound i've ever heard...all right, i'll be done yesterday, just give me one...ah, there we are." He removed his hand, blowing quickly on each wrist. "Perfect! Look at that. No going back now. Did you know you have rather perfect skin for branding? Not too taut, just thick enough to burn, but healthy enough to heal, really quite exquisite."

He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. "Now, our contract's complete! Transaction, done, you've signed on the line and our deal's been sealed. I'm off to pull your friend out of his eternal Nordic slumber party. And, as a token of goodwill, i'll put you right back where you came. Ciao, ducky, see you in a few! Oh, and i'd advise closing your eyes. Raw power and all that."

"Wait, wha-bye?"

Bright light engulfed her vision, the thief clenching her eyes shut. When she opened them again, the gildergreen bloomed in front of her, there was no madgod to be found, and Heimskr was shrieking in fear(something he'd wholeheartedly deny later). Talos's stone gaze glared down at her, silently judging the thief for her rash actions.

However, the woman had no time to care, as the dragonborn would be up and on his feet in less than a day. No, Dmitri Rousseau had better things to do than worry about the judgement of the Divines. Pulling on a pair of gloves to hide her new markings, she headed towards Breezehome. She had a job to do.

* * *

_**A/N: So it begins. I hope the name change is alright with you guys. Originally Dmitri was the name I put down, but autocorrect changed it to 'Demetri', and by the time I noticed it was too late to change it(in the first story). Anyways, hope this caught your interest, and I hope you'll tell me what you think so far. Thanks for reading! (I love you guys!)**_


	2. Resurrection

_**A/N: Chapter two! Here we are. Hope everyone is enjoying this still. I don't want to keep you for long, so here's the next chapter. Read on, lovelies! Also, welcome back, OntKoTiid! It's a pleasure to see you again!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Elder Scrolls. Not too sorry about that, either.**_

* * *

The thundering sound of war drums echoed somewhere in the distance. Stars and constellations, brilliantly outlined in every color imaginable(and some that weren't) twinkled in the sky above. The low reverberation of warrior's hymns vibrated the very earth he stood on. Bones much older than his own, guarded by Shor's own shield-thane, bridged the mists of Sovngarde to the Hall of Valor. The shield-thane, Tsun, knelt defeated at the foot of the whale bone bridge, looking up at his triumphant attacker with pride.

"We welcome you to this hall, Dragonborn."

The dragonborn looked back at the swirling mists that covered the land, and listened closely for the distant call of the World-Eater. The ebony-scaled beast did not disappoint, the dying screams of a virtuous man echoing across the opaque expanse, along with Alduin's victorious roar.

"Is it really my time, brother? The wyrm still flies. Will he not devour everything in his path?"

The dragonborn felt a quick rush of warm air behind him, the smell of warm sand and tropical fruit accompanying the wind before it died down quickly. Tsun took on a defensive stance, standing with his greatsword at the ready.

"By what right do you arrive here, vile demon?"

The dragonborn turned, confused. In front of him stood a figure cloaked in violet. The man chuckled, his face obscured by a hood.

"Just fulfilling my end of a deal, you brute, don't mind me. Come on, then, let's go."

The figure grabbed the dragonborn's arm, tugging him closer. Tsun grabbed his other arm. "He is an honourable warrior, there is no reason you should take him from his rightful place."

The exasperation of the figure tainted the air around him. "Oh, brothers below, would you just shush that Nordic yap of yours? I'm taking him, and that's final. I've got a very lonely family back on Nirn who needs him. And, you know, that whole 'murdering the world-eater' thing still hasn't happened yet."

The cloaked man reached around, prying off the shield-thane's hand. Tsun recoiled at his touch as if he had been burned. "Keep a seat warm for the lad. Come on, then, we need to get you home. I have a deadline, you know."

"Wait, what-"

"That's just what that lovely little sister of yours said! Now, we need to go, this whole place makes my skin crawl."

The dragonborn tried to clutch at something as it felt like his very being was being torn apart, a whirlwind of blues, whites and oranges flooding his vision before he blacked out, the echoes of the stranger's laughter the last thing ringing in his ears before darkness took him.

* * *

"Oh, Dmitri!"

Warm golden arms enveloped the young breton in a hug, pulling her into the house while the other occupant shut the door.

Breezehome, like always, smelt of warm mead and firewood. The hearth in the middle of the front room burned brightly, the flames reflecting off of old leather tomes and polished weapons alike. A warm soup of some sort bubbled over the fire, along with a roasting slab of venison.

"Good to be home, Celcyn."

The exotic mer that had so kindly smothered the thief had not let go yet, basking in the small woman's presence. Squeezing her once more for good measure, the altmer let go, burning orange eyes shining in relief. "I was so worried! You..you just left without a word, I thought you were going to do something foolish! I'm...oh, i'm so happy you're home!"

Celcynia gently brushed back a strand of hair from the small woman's face, tucking it behind her ear as she cast Dmitri a tender look. "I really was worried."

"I don't doubt it. What're you cooking?"

Even though the thief was honestly elated to see her mismatched family, food was always first on her mind. Celcynia laughed loudly, extended canines on display for all to see. "Oh, you and your stomach. Take a seat, I'll get you a bowl."

She gave the Altmer a sheepish smile, stomach growling in response. The mer headed towards the back of the house while Dmitri took a seat near the fire.

The final member of their small family hung in the shadows, perched on the stairs that led to the second floor. Ashen skin and crimson eyes peeked out from her mask, the bottom of her face hidden by red and black cloth.

The dunmer chuckled lightly, deserting her favored spot to sit by the thief. "So, where you been, kid? You seemed pretty driven when you left."

"I told you, Sulari."

"Right, finding a way to bring Valghar back. How'd that work out?"

"I guess you'll see, hm?"

"Sure, sure. Good to have you back, anyways. You take a trip home?"

"My home or yours?"

"Mine."

"Yeah. I..,"

The moment stretched on as the thief internally debated with herself over whether to tell her dunmer sister about her doings.

"I...I'll tell you later."

"Aw. Promise, short stuff?"

"Yeah, I promise."

The only sound that could be heard was the crackle of the fire and the sound of Celcynia messing around in their alchemy room.

"Your armor's upstairs," Sulari stated suddenly, "Brynjolf brought it by two days ago. Along with some papers he said you needed to look over. He also said that when you get back, he wants to talk about Karliah's place of residence. Make sense to you?"

Oh, she had missed the auburn Nord. Karliah, too. Honestly, she missed her whole guild. Thrynn and Cynric with their silly rivalry, Vex with her brooding, angry attitude, and Delvin with his never-ending quest to get Vex in his bed. Tonila and Vekel with their not-so-secret secret romance, even Ravyn, with his disgustingly smarmy personality.

Dmitri looked up at her dunmeri sister. "Yeah. I'll make sure to talk to him. How's Nazir? and Babette? And your jester?"

A warm look shone on her face as she looked into the fire. "They're well. We have a few new recruits, and i'm thinking of reinstating the speaker and silencer system. It worked quite well in the third era."

"Speaker and silencer...Lucien talk about that? It sounds familiar."

"Yeah, suggested it actually. It looks like a sound system, but, i'm going to need a bigger guild. I need ten members just for the silencers and speakers. Then each sanctuary under each speaker usually has ten to twenty members...bah, i'm sure things'll come together at some point."

Quiet, the two basked in both the warmth from the hearth and each other's presence.

"You've been gone for two weeks." Celcynia handed the thief a bowl, handing her a healing potion as well. "And it looks like you've been busy. What happened?"

"What happened with...?"

The altmer sighed. "Generally, you don't smell like blood. You actually smell quite nice. And last time I saw you, you had all ten fingers. Or is your pinkie just that small?"

The pain in her hands combined with the biting cold outside had numbed her fingers and the wound, although cold, had been forgotten about. Her now-missing finger was easy to spot, as well, it's appointed finger-sleeve flopping over. "Oh. Yeah, well, I ran into a group of monsters, my blades got knocked out of my hands. I was reaching for my swords and one leaned forward and just bit it off. I kind of just...turned tail and ran back here afterwards."

She wiggled the pitiful stump for good measure as she gulped down the healing potion. "Ugh. Kid, all that's going to be left of you is going to be a toe and a eyeball by the time you die."

The three women laughed. "Yeah, probably. I'm going to take my things upstairs. Then i'm going to eat all of that." She cast a pointed look at the bubbling stew over the fire while the other two laughed. "It's good to have you home, kiddo. Go throw your crap somewhere."

The thief padded upstairs, eager to change out of her slightly damp ash-stained clothes before the mix of toxic water and residue soaked into her skin. Turning the corner into the guest room (which had once served as the Housecarl's room), she dropped her things on the floor, gently pulling her gloves off.

While her mutilated finger certainly looked better, the branding on her wrists did not look better at all. The deep welts in her skin, red and crusted with congealed blood, were nestled in between puffy, irritated skin. She noticed with some disgust that it was already starting to show signs of infection, the wound taking on an unhealthy yellow color in some places.

As she bent down to rifle through her bag for more healing potions, she realized each cut was most likely a letter. Ten of the runes were on each wrist, probably spelling out the madgod's name. She chuckled to herself as she realized that she had been marked like cattle.

Dmitri picked up her things, setting them on the chest in the room while she undid her cloak. At least, that had been her plan, until her brands burned bright. They throbbed, glowing bright red before they stopped as soon as they started. Clutching her sore wrists, the thief growled to the empty air.

"I'm getting _pretty_ _damn tired _of being burnt, _sir."_

"Sir? How quaint. I like that! I like 'lord' better, though. And would you rather I shock you? Chill you to the bone, maybe? Nice lie back there. Very believable."

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to entertain you, _my lord_."

"Hah, you're an entertaining mortal, whether you mean to be or not."

Mortal and mad god stared at each other for a few moments before Sheogorath saw it fit to speak.

"Valghar should be up and around any minute now."

The look on the thief's face, a mixed expression of disbelief, panic, and excitement, was priceless.

"...seriously?"

"Deadly. Go see for yourself, if you'd like. Tsun didn't like me taking him back, though. If your warrior dies again, you're dealing with Shor's guard dog on your own. He was _very_ unaccommodating."

"I'm not going to let him die again, so that's obsolete. And you can send in a complaint to Shor if you feel that strongly."

"You know what else is obsolete? Table manners. Even the emperors don't pay them mind anymore. It's really quite rude." The madgod took a seat on the side of the bed, crossing his legs and frowning as a teacup materialized in his hands.

"I would expect it to be. What emperor have you been dining with? Last emperor I know of is feeding the worms."

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough. At least, you probably will. If you don't die first. Even then, you might, though. It's all up to chance. And Nocturnal, too, can't forget her. Lady Luck. Ha!"'

The two stared at each other once more before an ungodly shriek carried up the stairs. Whirling around to face the door, the breton worriedly peeked around the doorframe before turning to tell Sheogorath that his departure was most mandatory, only to find the madgod was already gone.

"Not even a goodbye...? And he's complaining about manners."

Slipping her gloves on once more, she bolted down the stairs. Sulari's mouth hung open, wide red eyes obviously disbelieving before she turned her gaze towards the thief. Her expression then changed to one of utter condemnation, accusing and sharp.

'_What did you do?'_ The dunmer mouthed, obviously very angry.

'_I'll tell you later.'_ She mouthed back, sending the woman the most pleading look she could muster. The dunmer gave in, however the thief could tell that she'd be subjected to the most harsh interrogation the assassin could perform later.

"Val...Valghar?"

The trembling voice of Celcynia, usually calm and collected, worried the two. They came up on each side of the altmer, who stood by the open door, staring at the older Nord with both hope and doubt in her eyes.

"It's me." Gentle, ice blue eyes stared back at the three, framed by rather dirty dark blond hair. The Dragonborn didn't look as if he'd been dead for nearly a month, not at all. His skin held a healthy glow, the ever-present smile on his face shining bright.

Celcynia's hand came up to gently rest on his face, and the nord covered it with his own. "Did you miss me?"

The altmer practically threw herself at him, kissing him with fervor. The two broke apart after a moment, Valghar gently laying his forehead on Celcynia's own.

"Of course I missed you, you imbecile!" Laughing with relief, the altmer pulled the dragonborn in the house, immediately kissing him afterwards. Sulari shut the door, relieved as well.

"How...how..."

"I don't know either. The last thing I remember is going to sleep after I was home." He gently stroked the altmer's face, giving her a quick peck on the lips before he walked over to his other two charges.

"Sulari." He smiled warmly, embracing her quickly. "Yeah, yeah. Don't go dying on me again, you bastard." The dragonborn chuckled, giving her a firm pat on the shoulder before turning to the breton.

"There's my girl." The woman jumped at him, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face into his neck. "I missed you, Val. I..missed you a lot." Although she tried to keep from shedding tears, a few traitorous drops escaped. The dragonborn chuckled, rubbing the young woman's back. "I missed you all too."

The two stayed that way for a moment, the Breton cherishing every second. The smell of burnt leaves and pine was a smell she'd never thought she'd miss, and it clung to the dragonborn like a second skin. After a moment, he let go of the girl, giving her an affectionate kiss on the forehead before rejoining his lovely altmer, placing a hand around her waist.

"Hey, we'll go tell the companions that you're alive. You two hang out. Have a drink or something. Mitri, let's go." Trapping the woman's arm in a vice-like grip, she was rudely dragged out of the house. "Bye, be back in a second!"

The door was slammed behind them, the assassin dragging the woman up the street and behind the Bannered Mare, where she proceeded to punch the smaller woman in the jaw.

"Ouch! Goddamnit, Sulari! What in Oblivion was that for?"

The dunmer woman had begun pacing, shooting the small woman a glare every few steps. "What'd you do, hm?"

"What do you-"

"Our lives suck, Dmitri. We don't _get_ luck. Ever. Suddenly, you come home, and not even an hour afterwards, Valghar's standing in the door as if he didn't have his insides ripped out? That's not how things work with us! **What did you do?**"

Sighing, the young woman sat down on one of the large rocks that made up the retaining wall. "When I visited Vvardenfell, I met a man. He told me that I could bring back Valghar, at a price. It took _'light red hair, spun into lengths upon lengths, the tools of crafting and smithing, the spoils of that which grows to die, and the minumus of one unloyal to their cause.'_ It would summon a prince, who offered to bring him back. I..made the deal."

Equally disappointed and furious, the assassin turned her back on the thief, unable to look at her. "What did you give them? Which prince?"

Averting her eyes from her sister, Dmitri lowered her eyes to the ground as she sucked in a large breath of air. "It was-ouch!" Her brands burned once more under the thick gloves. The thief was more-than-slightly disgusted that the pain was beginning to become bearable.

"Me, and she auctioned off her pretty little head. Really, a good trade by any standards." A hand snaked it's way around her shoulders, the thief flinching at the sudden appearance of the madgod beside her.

"Can you not announce your arrival?" A feeble glare was sent Sheogorath's way by his contract holder.

"I just did. Plus, you've got your madgod warning system right there." He tapped on her wrist, slightly confused.

Sulari whirled around, stumbling at the sight of Sheogorath in front of her. "You..."

"Me!" The madgod chirped.

"You..made a deal with..."

"She did!"

"I did." The solemn voice of the thief was miserable, but to Sulari's chagrin, she didn't sound regretful.

"You _sold_ your _mind_ to the _Daedric Prince of Madness._ What were you thinking!?"

Beginning to get angry at Sulari in return, Dmitri stood up, stalking towards the dunmer until they were chest-to-chest. "I wasn't thinking! Valghar was dead! I was pissed! I was grieving!"

Sulari began to talk, but the thief cut her off. "And another thing, we both saw how Celcyn was starving herself. She would have died of starvation and we both know it! Valghar's death was killing her, too!"

Sheogorath, who had been quietly observing, deigned to speak up. "If I can, i'd like to-"

"Shut up, madman!"

"Shut it, Sheogorath!"

The two snarled at him, immediately going back to yelling at each other.

The mad god, however, didn't like being told what to do. He stood and stepped up to the two, prying them apart by the backs of their collars. "Here's what we're going to do. You, devious little mortal, are going to stay here with me. I don't know how long, maybe a moment, maybe an eternity." He cast a pointed look at his contract holder.

"But-" Dmitri obviously didn't understand the futility of arguing with Sheogorath.

"No, shh."

"Wait-"

"Shush!"

"Wha-"

"Shut your trap!"

"Mmph? Mmm mmh mmph!" Desperately trying to pry her lips apart from where they'd been magically sealed, she met the madgod's unseeing gaze in a fierce glare.

"Save it for Molag, sweetling, he'll love that fire. Now, you," He turned towards the dunmer. "are going home. Go treat the Dragonborn to a resurrection party, assassinate a few lovely mortals, do what you want. Just cool down a bit. I promise i'll take good care of the little thief, but today is Sundas, and Sundas is my pacifistic day. No fighting."

Demetri made an indignant sound. Sheogorath pressed a finger against her lips without looking at her, his eyes still firmly locked on the dark elf.

"Fine."

Glaring at the madgod and then the silenced thief behind her, Sulari turned on her heel, assumedly heading back to Breezehome. Dmitri's jaw popped open with a rather disgusting 'click' as the magic on her lips dissolved. She rubbed it as she stared at Sheogorath, uncertain.

"Ah, dunmer. Always so sure they can beat me in a test of mental will. Pity they never win. So!" He turned towards her again, giving her a warm smile as he clapped his hands together. "Care to take a trip?"

"I don't think my permission would matter." She muttered, gently massaging her jaw.

"It really doesn't, but, formalities and all that. Yes or no, little mortal, simple question."

"Maybe."

"I'm going to take that as a yes."

"Insufferable bastard."

"Detestable harlot. Now, onto business. I need you to do something for me. It's really quite important, and will most likely take up all of your free time, and it might be the cause of your death."

"Calm down, explain."

"See, I was thinking-"

"Oh, no. Hope you didn't strain yourself."

"Quiet, wretched little mortal. I want you to champion me and my brothers. I need a mortal to act as..oh, what do you northerners say...be my shield and sword? That sounds right. I need you to be my bridge to the rest of the Princes. Big things are brewing, ducky, and I want to make sure I have allies for when the storm hits."

"Alright, why me?"

"Well, you're nice enough. You seem like you'd follow orders well. And, who wouldn't want the title of Oblivion Walker? Plus, it'd be nice to see one of mine be the champion of the daedra again. Real source of pride, you'd be. And I bet Sanguine and Hermie will just adore you to pieces. Plus..."

He trailed off, obviously lost in thought before giving her an uncertain look.

"What?"

"Nothing. Anyways. Go do some questing for my brothers and sisters, get a few artifacts. I'm going to go drink tea with Pelagius the Third in Solitude if you need me. You really should swing by, I bet he'd get a kick out of you."

"Alright, that's all well and good. I'll get right on that. But first, i'm going to go home and spend a few days with Valghar. I just got him back. You can't expect me to just leave."

"I think I can expect you to do what you're told. The whole 'selling your head to me' thing we went through ring a bell or two? After all we've done together, honestly! I can't believe you already forgot." Sheogorath looked sincerely hurt, and the champion found it disturbing how much the hellspawn from Oblivion looked like a kicked puppy.

"I didn't mean-augh! Just give me a few days with him. Then Valghar'll probably be stir crazy, and he'll get back on the road with Celcyn and probably Sulari too. I can leave then."

The mad god pouted.

She didn't care.

"Oh, fine, go be sentimental with your born-dragon. Give him a kiss hello for me. See you later, ducky!"

"I hate you."

"I hate you too!"

A quick kiss was pressed to her cheek, and the madgod disappeared to assumedly continue his rendezvous with the Emperor. The thief was left alone, cold and confused, rubbing her temples in an effort to stem the oncoming headache that Sheogorath seemed to leave in his wake.

Deciding Sulari really would need time to cool off, she headed inside the Bannered Mare to drink her troubles away, muttering to herself as she walked in the building.

"At least he said goodbye."

* * *

_**A/N: And, chapter two is done. We're going to start chilling with the daedric princes now. And Sheogorath is going to serve as our wonderful mentor/guide/torturer. When he's not Fun! So. Read and review, and don't be afraid to suggest the next princes for our Champion to meet. After the lovely King of the Spurned, of course. Love you guys!**_


	3. The Pursuit of Knowledge

_**A/N: It's lovely to see you! I hope this chapter strikes your fancy. (Thanks to OntKoTiid and Noname for reviewing! I updated fast just for you lovely people.)**_

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur.

Sulari continuously fumed, spouting off anger in no particular direction. Every time Dmirti would enter a room, she would exit. If the thief managed to enter a room without the dunmer noticing, she would receive the silent treatment, coupled with glares that promised her the bloodiest demise possible. To the thief's surprise(and relief), Sulari didn't inform anyone of the deal she'd made, simply telling those who asked about the Dragonborn's resurrection that it was a gift from the gods.

Valghar and Celcynia were inseparable. They stuck together everywhere they went, and if the time arose where they needed to separate, the other was never very far. The only time Valghar had been alone in the three days he'd been back was when he visited the Companions, and that had only been because Celcyn couldn't find her hood. If the sun hadn't been particularly harsh that day, she probably would have left anyways.

Today, the trio was getting ready to leave. Dmitri had made her excuses, telling them that Brynjolf needed her back at the guild, and that she had a lot to manage. Valghar had expressed disappointment, but the older Nord had understood. Celcyn had been equally, if not more disappointed, however she had agreed with the thief that work was very important.

Sulari had obviously seen talking to the woman as something below her, so Dmitri was subjected to another long day of silence from the assassin.

They were planning to leave around midnight to visit Windhelm and then Solitude, to work out a temporary treaty between the Stormcloaks and the Imperials. Balgruuf had refused to to house a dragon on grounds of Whiterun's ever-present threat of invasion, however if an agreement between the two groups could be reached, he would ready the trap and allow Valghar to catch a dragon.

At least, that was the plan when they finally left.

Since Celcynia's little 'vampirism' problem rendered her incapable of going outside in daylight, they'd have to leave at night. However, they needed about a day to ready themselves, as the two mer were also preparing for Celcyn to basically attack Valghar out of hunger. He had been her quite willing donor when he had been alive, and seeing how Celcynia had been starving herself, the temptation to sink her fangs into the Nord was too great.

There were two problems with this, the first of which being that she might kill the dragonborn again in her ravenous drinking, and the second was that she had been cut off cold turkey from the sustenance her body craved. If she fed too quickly, her body wouldn't register that she was full, and she'd drink Valhhar dry before she filled up. If she kept starving herself, it was a given that she'd give in to the urges and attack Valghar in that situation, too.

Their solution was to give the altmer small controlled doses of Sulari's blood, which she wasn't addicted to as she was Valghar's. It would allow her to drink her fill, but not whip the vampire into a frenzy. The Dragonborn couldn't be anywhere near the lovely altmer while she was feeding, however. So the dragonborn was kicked out of the house, and naturally, Dmitri went with him.

This lead them to their current position, which was devouring slab after slab of venison in the Bannered Mare, washing the meat down with Honningbrew's finest, watching Sinmir and Uthgerd argue in anticipation of the eventual blows that the two always exchanged. It was a very, very familiar setting that she'd admit she missed dearly.

Valghar and Hulda's ceaseless bickering was a sweet sound to behold. The Nord smiled a wolfish grin, booming laughter echoing around the building when Hulda would say something particularly funny. She simply gazed at her friend and brother for a while, content just to see him alive and well.

They laughed for a moment about his newfound lack of scars and the like.

The scars on his muscled arms were sadly gone, the map of their adventures fading assumedly at the time of his resurrection. The only scar that remained was the fatal wound from Alduin that had left him broken and bleeding at the throat of the world.

She frowned as she thought of the wound. While Valghar getting hurt was as normal as breathing air, to receive a wound of that size and depth, he'd had to have been distracted or something of the sort. In a fight with the one he was destined to destroy, it must have taken something substantial to distract him.

A clap on the shoulder jolted her out of her thoughts, someone sliding onto the stool next to her at the small bar.

"Heya, kiddo." The ever-drunk face of Sam Guevenne stared at her, a silly smile on his lips. The hood he wore was pushed back, the happy breton wobbling on his seat, clutching the thief's shoulder in an effort to steady himself.

"Oh, hey, Sammy. You scared me, there." He laughed, hiccuping as he did so.

"S'rry, didn't mean to scare ya. Hey, weren't you dead?" He peeked around the smaller breton, staring at Valghar in a mix of confusion and amusement. "Not even the-_hic!_-gods could keep you down, eh-_hic!_-mister dragonborn?"

The dragonborn laughed his thundering laugh once more, shaking his head. "I guess I'm not done down here, my friend."

Hulda shook her head at the drunk's antics. "Akatosh's graces, Sam, could you limit your intake? You scare off the other patrons."

"'s a free country, innit it? I'll do what I want, and as far as 'm concerned i'm a damned blessing. Iit's not like it's five...four o'clock, I'm pretty sure midnight's fair game. I can be as drrrunk as I want. 'sides, just wanted to visit this little lady and see how she was doin'."

The drunk wrapped an arm around her, gently swaying as he cuddled the small breton. At one point, she would have shoved the other man off, but after finding herself in this position time and time again, she simply gave the snuggly drunk a small smile.

"Is it midnight already? I'd better get going." He leaned over to give Dmitri a kiss on her cheek, quickly counting out his coin and gathering up this things. "I'll see you soon, Dmitri. Stay safe."

She chuckled and gave him a quick wave. "Say bye to Celcyn and Sulari for me. I'd do it myself, but..." She gestured to the breton that had not released his hold on her. He chuckled. "I will."

"Bye Valskar...wait..Vallar...uh, bye."

The nord quickly left, and the thief was left alone with a very handsy breton.

"Say, d'ya...d'ya mind helpin me with something?"

Taking a swig from her tankard, the thief looked at her snuggling friend curiously. "Sure, what do you need help with?"

"Oh, y'know, I don't we should talk-_hic!_-aboot it in here. Too many open-_hic!_-ears."

"Yeah, alright. Hold onto me, I don't want you faceplanting like last time."

"Ugh, are you-_hic!_-ever gonna lemme live that down?"

"No, you lout."

"You're a..a...uhh..."

"Don't strain yourself. Come on. Out we go."

The doors outside were pushed open, chilly air hitting the two in one large gust. The moon shone bright in the sky, the stars gently shining their light upon the unlikely companions as she dragged him outside to sit on the stump usually used for chopping wood.

"Alright, what do you want to talk about?" She said, gently trying to pry his hands off from where they'd taken up residence around her waist.

"What-_hic!_-happened with 'im?"

"Who, Valghar? I told you, he just came back to life-"

"Noo, no. Not-_hic!-_Valsmar...Valkar...uh, not him."

"Then who?"

"Sheo...Sheogorad! Wait, that's a...part of Morrowind...Shego...Sheo...ugh, madman! You know, crazier than...ugh, I can't do analogies. White hair, blind as a bat, about...yay high?" He swatted at the air next to her in a pathetic effort to show her exactly how tall the Mad God was.

Her eyes went wide. "What..what are you...did Sulari tell you?" Oh, she was going to _kill _Sulari. Of of the people to tell, she'd told _Sam Guevenne_ that she'd summoned Sheogorath. Sam, who was utterly tanked every time she saw him, and Sam, who literally could not keep his mouth shut after a few too many.

She groaned, sinking to the floor. "My life is ruined." She moaned, burying her head in her hands.

"Aw, no it's-_hic!_-not. Sulari didn't tell me a_-hic!_-thing. I'm a conjur...conjeeror? Ugh. My head. Conjurer! That's it, i'm a mage. I can tell when you've been talkin' with a daedra lord, his presence is all around ya."

Alright, that was a bit better. At least Sulari had been quiet. But still, this was Sam that knew about her daedric exploits.

"Don't worry 'bout things, i'm not going to...going to...tell anyone."

"Sam, how many have you had tonight? You're more wrecked than usual."

"A...a couple barrels."

"Yea, sure. Why?"

He looked uncertain, and wobbled slightly on his stump. "I..things started, today. I didn't want them to. A lot of people are going to get hurt, and I just..." He hiccuped once more, and then went silent, a pensive look on his face.

"Hey, don't worry about things. I'm here for you, right?" It was odd to see her friend so melancholy compared to his usual jovial attitude. Dmitri decided she didn't like it.

"That's-_hic!_-the only thing keepin' me afloat, you know. You're a good kid, you don't need to worry about me, though, i'll..i'll do fine. I always do." He gave her an astonishingly clear look of lament before he looked down again, a mournful smile on his lips. "Daedra below, I hate being in this body. Too many feelings. I can't wait to go home."

"I'm sure you can't, Sammy, now let's get you to bed, come on."

"Mmkay. Love you, kiddo."

"Good night, Sammy."

He leaned against her heavily before passing out, lightly snoring in her ear.

* * *

_Water._

_It ran in torrents around her, swirling and churning, graceful and graceless at the same time. It flowed down from an unseen font, pooling on the floor, cloaked in vibrant green fire. _

_Although all logic dictated that the fire should have been quelled by the liquid it accompanied, it burned on bright, intertwining with the cool blue that fell and covered the marbled room. White and beautiful, ornate pillars held up a ceiling comprised of the heavens themselves, stars and celestial bodies completing their divine dance above._

_The water never touched her skin, rushing out of her reach. As she looked down to where the waters flowed, a long path lit by burning orange fires revealed itself, the pathway it shone on golden and brilliant. _

_She followed the golden path, the small sound of footfalls drowned out in the ever-present roar of the streams of water. The green fires had now intertwined with the water to create a sick-looking concoction not unlike sewage. It spewed and smelt of all things unsavoury, colored the mix of mud and moss, yet flowed alongside the road as if the liquified decay belonged there._

_On the other side, the bright orange ashes from the braziers had found their place in the liquid, which unlike it's counterpart was clear and crisp. It twinkled in the firelight, gently rolling along the path, bringing with it the soft smell of smooth sands and sea salt._

_The burnished golden pathway suddenly dropped off, the steady streams of water disappearing over a steep edge, plunging down into an endless abyss. _

_Looking up from the precipice, she saw that the road ahead was very far. She would not be able to reach it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. The golden road was cracked, small weeds sprouting between the gold. The braziers had fallen, and the hall was dim. Ivy crept up the walls, leaves twisting and twining. A silver, shiny substance dripped down from the cracked ceiling, falling in a puddle that slowly wormed it's way towards the chasm._

_Fear shot through her, tendrils of panic grabbing her heart. The liquid wasn't natural. It didn't belong in this place of golden paths and celestial ceilings. It was a parasite, and she could only tremble in terror at the thought of being infected._

_She turned around to run back, however there was nothing to run back to. The bright fires and the path had disappeared, leaving only damnable nothingness. It continued on and on, the heavenly bodies once hovering over the odd reality gone, giving way to an endless sea of black. Turning back around, her terror only intensified as the liquid drew closer._

_Deciding she had nothing to lose, she stepped over, and fell._

* * *

Dmitri jerked, hitting her head against a table, shocking her out of the haze of sleep. A nearby stack of books fell off the table she'd apparently commandeered, hitting the floor with a loud 'bang'.

"Ouch, oh, crap."

She vaguely remembered coming back to Breezehome and busting out her (admittedly slightly ridiculous)collection of books, searching for anything that would help her to understand her eccentric benefactor. Rubbing her sore scalp, she bent down to retrieve the books, reading the titles as she did so.

"'_On Oblivion', '16 Accords of Madness, ', 'The Doors of Oblivion', '16 Accords of Madness, v. VI'..._oh, wow. I remember you."

Running her hands over a wholly unremarkable book, she chuckled. The leather was cracked and dry, and the title was faded to the point of being nonexistent, but she'd had this tome for so long that just the feeling was enough to know what book it was. She'd had the book for years upon years, and although she couldn't read it(as it was in a language all it's own), the illustrations inside were wicked and beautiful.

"Now, where have you been hiding, hm? Silly, foreign little book." She opened it for old times' sake, lips twitching upwards as she observed the familiar runes so delicately penned into the pages.

Her smile gradually disappeared as she flipped the pages with frightening intensity.

The runes on her wrist, as burned and disgusting as they were, matched some of the letters down to the smallest curve. The first and last pages had words that matched her wrist down to a T.

"Sheogorath."

She spoke to the open air, and her wrists burned in response.

"I don't appreciate you calling me like a common pup. I really have other things to attend to, ducky. I can't run to you every time you call."

Sheogorath was seated by the fire, sipping what appeared to be a dark wine from a crystal goblet.

"Read this." The thief demanded, holding out the book for him to take.

"Well, it's a pleasure to see you too, lovely. My day was wonderful, thank you for asking! So polite."

She gave him a dead look. He sighed. "Fine, fine, give it here."

He opened the book, settling it on his lap as he swirled his wine around the glass. A pair of ornate reading glasses appeared next to him, settling themselves on his face as he opened the book. He seemed delighted as he opened it.

"Oh, I haven't seen a legible copy of this in a century! At least, outside of my Isles." He then looked at her, obviously confused. "This is quite legible. Are you secretly illiterate?"

"No, but I don't know daedric, i'm sorry for that. Read."

"Hm. No. I have better things to do." He tossed it back to her, smiling as she caught it. He then cast a pointed look over at her crowded table. "I'd suggest Hermaeus first, the slimy chap's been awfully lonely lately. Or was that Sanguine? Speaking of, how have you been? Meet any Princes lately?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, Sheogorath, pretty sure i'd notice if I was talking to a daedric prince."

"Are you _utterly _sure?"

"Good gods, yes."

"...are you sure you're sure?"

"Dear sweet Akatosh, _yes._"

He gave her a suspicious stare before relenting. "Are we done here?"

"Are you not going to read that for me?"

"Nope."

"Then I guess we are. Thanks for nothing."

"You're exceptionally welcome."

"Hmph." Dmitri turned away, unsurprised when the faint whoosh of air was heard behind her. She began rifling through her books at her table, settling down with a copy of '_The Book of Daedra'_ before she jumped in shock, as the Mad God had appeared once more, carrying yet another stack of books.

He dropped them on the table, the books colliding with the wood with a sound not unlike thunder.

"You're lucky that I like you, little mortal. I could be stuffing myself with all kinds of things right now. Cheeses, pies, wayward priests." He leant on the rather impressive stack, smiling lightly. "You'll need to find that charming mage again. The one who's obsessed with those lovely scrolls? He'll help you out with old Hermy. These are just for extra preparation." He gave the books a pat.

"Uh..thank you, Sheogorath." She offered awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Aw, it's no problem. Now, hurry and find your crazy mage, even with Hermaeus's blessing we still have 12 princes to go. Chop, chop!" Sheogorath gave her a quick pat on the head and promptly disappeared, leaving behind a very confused and very thankful mortal.

* * *

Septimus was as obsessed as she remembered.

Now that she'd met the king of the madmen, however, she understood the man a _lot_ more. Plus, she had forgotten how isolated the mage was. He lived in a damned iceberg.

"Septimus!"

Naturally, the madman ignored her presence. "Do you have it?"

"Yeah, here."

The runed lexicon was handed to the man, and he looked at it in awe, delirious mutters of quick appreciation lost in the wind as shaking hands inspected every corner of the faintly glowing cube. Dark, lost eyes searched along the runed surface, reading quickly, as if his life depended on it.

"Extraordinary.." he whispered, "I see it now."

"See what?" Their voices, barely utterances, still echoed with all the force of a scream in the darkened prison of ice the scholar had holed up in.

"The sealing structure, right here? On the box? It interlocks in the tiniest fractals." The reverence that shined through the ill-sounding breaths that the madman called a voice was almost overwhelming, the awe that he expressed permeating the air. It only gained presence as he spoke.

"Dwemer blood will open the locks, however there are none alive to bear it." A contemplative gaze was directed at the lockbox. "A panoply of their brethren could gather to form a facsimile. A trick, you see? Something they didn't anticipate. No, not even them."

Trembling in excitement, or maybe the chill of the frozen waters around them, he looked at the unfortunate bearer of the lexicon. "The blood of Altmer, Dunmer, Bosmer, Orsimer, and Falmer. The elves still living will provide the key."

"Bear you hence this extractor. It will drink the fresh blood of elves. Return when the set is complete."

Although the temporary courier didn't feel like taking orders, her freezing hands took the odd contraption without a word. "I will return soon, I promise." With little more than a nod, Septimus returned to considering the box and it's contents. Taking this as dismissal, the woman began the ascent to the chilled sea that lay beyond the madman's den.

Since her gaze had been directed at the floor to make sure she wouldn't slip, she almost missed the black-and violet sentient tear in reality that had taken up residence in the hall. It was only when the courier stepped _through_ when it's presence was noted.

The feeling of being torn between a dark, cosmic power that far exceeded her own and the tether of the mortal plane was a disgusting, unnatural feeling, painful beyond measure as the messenger fell to the ground writhing in agony.

Panicked breaths escaped the traveller as the chilled fire ran through body and mind, only subsiding when Dmitri tried to yield to it's power.

"Quiet, and listen. Bask in my presence."

She rolled onto her side as she clutched her pained chest, the barest choke of a tone breaking out of her mouth as she tried to regain her breath and restore feeling to her limbs.

"You're Herma-Mora, right?"

His presence was different than Sheogorath's, or Clavicus Vile's. It most resembled Nocturnal's. While being around Sheogorath brought a constant sense of barely-restrained chaos and charged the air with energy, Hermaeus's presence was quietly almighty. It practically sang of wisdom and the power that came with it.

"So, you know of me. This is good, I do not care for those uninformed." the abyss announced."I am the guardian of the unseen and the knower of the unknown." The voice dropped it's edge for a moment, the tone becoming almost fond in comparison to the quiet power it had been previously exhibiting. "I have been watching you, mortal." The fondness in the daedric prince's pitch was replaced by pride. "Most impressive."

"Good to know i'm..."She coughed for a moment. "...impressing you. What can I do for you, sir?" Propping herself against the icy wall of the corridor to the ladder outside, the woman tried to regain some semblance of dignity, as she did _not_ want to be taken as something weak.

"Do not think of my other servant as useless. However, he has served his purpose. With every step you take, his existence is rendered increasingly obsolete. When his usefulness expires, I would request you take his place as my emissary. What say you?"

Mourning over the (admittedly minimal) loss of Septimus, she gave him a curt nod. "I'm your servant, my lord."

"Wonderful. Do as Septimus commands, for the moment. I will be watching."

* * *

The corpses of a bandit camp with a run of bad luck were strewn at her feet as she collected the blood of the Bosmer archer she'd so kindly run through, the red liquid dripping into Septimus's extractor as she knelt by his corpse.

The camp was a little ways away from Winterhold, the unlucky group holed up in one of the many nordic tombs that dotted the landscape to escape from the cold winds and the ever-present snowfall. She couldn't feel the snow, as her Nightingale armor was well-protected against the frozen landscape, however with their armor consisting of a few well-placed furs and a few strips of leather, it was a necessity.

However, the wonderful tomb was home to a large nest of angry draugr, who had been recently finished off by the bandits, with the loss of half of their own group. The rest fell to her daggers and her Nightingale blade.

After the crimson had finished it's descent into her extractor, she shoved the odd contraption in her pack, pulling down her mask so she could breathe while the thief walked back outside. The cold, crisp air burned her nose and chilled her lungs, the freezing beating against any skin that was exposed until it turned her blue.

The dead orc in his steel plates had already lost most of the color in his cheeks, helped by the fact the giant wound in his throat had allowed most of his blood to color the snow a vibrant crimson.

"Brrr. It's cold out here. You really should get somewhere warm, your little toes'll fall off if it gets too chilly. And you're already down a finger."

Since the cold had managed to permeate the thin gloves of her armor, Dmitri hadn't noticed the burning of her wrists, nor the tropical smell that carried on the winds where Sheogorath was concerned.

"I thought you were busy?"

"Pelagius was being _quite_ rude. You're not supposed to talk about politics between friends, and he's been prattling on about trade routes for the better half of an hour, now. Really, you'd think dying would free you from the exciting world of imperial commerce."

She chuckled, and the madgod walked to stand beside her.

"You know, after this is all over, you should visit Elsweyr with me. It's wonderful! Warm all year round, and the food is literally to _die for._ You'd love it! Plus, there's the fountains upon fountains of skooma and the khajiit are a nice enough bunch. Unless you're in Senchal." He grimaced.

"What's wrong with Senchal?"

"Oh, nothing, really, I just have a history of champions going to Senchal and never coming back. You shouldn't visit Senchal. Although, i'll admit, the sugar dens are certainly tempting."

"I'll keep that in mind. You wouldn't know where I can find a high elf and a dark elf, would you?"

"Hah, oh, if only you knew...there's a few necromancers over...there."

Her pointed at a vast, empty field of snow.

"Sheogorath, there's nothing there."

He looked at her, puzzled.

"Yes there is."

"No, there's not."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not doing this with you again."

"It's right there."

"No, it's not!"

He took a hold of her chin, turning her head towards the same snow field. The same snow field that was now home to a rather large, imposing ruin, which was being patrolled by a few easily recognizable necromancers.

"There's not, hm?" Sheogorath was smug.

Slightly confused and more-than slightly embarrassed, her cheeks lit up red. "S-shut up. I have to go kill some people, you have fun with your talk of budgets or whatever."

He glared. "Don't you say that. It's disgusting and rude and most unbecoming."

Dmitri gave him a quick smile. "See you."

"Bye, ducky! Have fun slaughtering your enemies!"

"I will." Drawing her blades, she smirked at the unsuspecting mages. Oh, she would have a _lot_ of fun.

* * *

Covered in blood and reeking of Falmer, the angry thief stomped into Septimus's hideout, small bits of human teeth and chaurus carapace falling off onto the cold, icy ground.

"Septimus! I have your blood!"

Oh, and he had better enjoy it. After slaughtering the necromancers, she had realized that she had been almost friendly with the mad god, and she had continued to brood on that thought until she had found a dwemer ruin.

Going into the mechanical corpse of a race long past, she had still been brooding, and that had proved to be a very bad choice indeed, as they had managed to get the jump on her. Since her whole fighting style relied on a one-hit kill from the shadows, she'd barely managed to evade the crude weapons, and had caught more hits than she could count.

The Nightingale armor was designed to be light, not tough. Their weapons had sliced through the material, leaving her skin and wounds open to their pet chaurus reaper, who promptly spit all over her. After she had defeated the last mer(who had resorted to biting after his weapon was out of his hands), the disgusting insect had pinned her to the ground with it's mandibles.

If it wasn't for the luck of Nocturnal on her side, she would bet every last septim she had she'd be dead.

Dmitri had found a weak spot on the underside of it's neck, and had driven her ebony dagger through it's tough shell with all the adrenaline-charged strength she had. After she managed to wiggle away from it's still-bleeding corpse, she had gathered up as much falmer blood that she could, running away from the ruin, not stopping until she'd arrived at his outpost.

Now she was cold and bloody, her armor was in tatters, she was tired, and worst of all, there was still the matter of dealing with Septimus. Joy.

"Hurry down, hurry down, I can hear the blood sing out for Septimus!"

She jumped down into the bottom layer of the iceberg, landing next to Septimus. It probably would have hurt, however the thief was numb from the waist down. "Here." She fished the odd machine out of her pack, handing it to the old madman with crimson-colored hands. If he saw the blood, he either didn't remark on it or didn't care.

"I will make the mixture, stay here."

Hurrying over to his desk, the mage took out yet another dwemeri contraption, turning away from her. He assumedly did something beyond her comprehension, afterwards making his way over to the giant lockbox encased in ice. He then took out a dagger, splitting the skin of his arm. The combined blood of the mer was then poured on the open wound. Septimus went up to the dwemeri construct, placing his hand on the seal in the middle, and the box opened quickly with a loud, metallic groan. The gears on the front shifted into place, pulling back and disappearing to reveal a single book on a pedestal.

Septimus quickly ran to it, howling in anger and disappointment.

"What is this!? It's...it's just a book! I..." The fury in his voice completely dissipated, transforming into stunned awe. "I...I can see...The world beyond burns in my mind. It's marvelous..." The old man's last words rung in her ears before he was vaporized on the spot in a flash of white light. The ashes of what once was Septimus Signus settled on the floor in a pile of remains and burnt fabric.

Ambling over to the book, she traced her fingers on it's cover.

The Oghma Infinium, she remembered, was a book written by Xarxes, said to contain all the knowledge that Herma-Mora had gifted him. The knowledge could be used to give it's owner demigod-like abilities, at the cost of the Infinium becoming lost until another champion found the book.

The mer skins that made up the cover were rather rudely sewn together. She imagined the book was slightly offended as she tucked it securely under her arm.

"You deserve a better cover. I'll get you stitched up all nice when we get home." Dmitri gave it a pat.

Slightly delirious and very pained, the thief made her way back up the stairway to the iceberg, only to be stopped when she saw a very familiar tear in reality.

"Come, my Champion."

Glowing with pride, the newly-christened Champion stood up a bit straighter, walking towards the wretched abyss.

"Now, you possess my Oghma Infinium. It contains the knowledge of the ages as revealed to Xarxes, my loyal servant." Again, the fond tone replaced the edge his voice had taken. "For nearly two centuries it's been shut away from the world. Septimus was a useful tool for unleashing it."

"Now, it is in your hands. I look forward to seeing how you will use it's knowledge. Fare thee well, my Champion, and let us work wonders, together."

"Thank you, Hermaeus."

The abyss disappeared, leaving her free to exit the prison of ice she'd found herself in. She sighed as she realized she would have to walk for a while. Dmitri couldn't stop in Winterhold, as the conversation with Sam had left her slightly worried about mages. If she stopped in Windhelm, she ran the risk of meeting Valghar, Celcyn and Sulari, so that was a big 'no', and she rather hated Dawnstar.

So, with her destination in mind, she let out another weary sigh, making her way to Riften.

* * *

_**A/N: Aw, crap. We're the champion of old Hermy Mo. That's three princes down(discounting Sheogorath as technically we're just his contract-holders) for those counting. **_

_**The journey has begun.**_

_**Read and review! They give me fuel to write the next chapters, you know, and they make me all warm and fuzzy inside.**_


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